The Number 32: Behind The Lines
My goodness, I'm sorry for being so cryptic yesterday.
Thanks to all for the well-wishes.
As mentioned in these pages before, I took a mulligan for this birthday. Nontheless, a few people sent their shout-outs here and at my MySpace ... uh, space. Each surprise was nice, and when put together, I felt better and better going into the trip, especially after watching Video Killed The Radio Star and Radio Ga-Ga for inspiration.
L&M have been especially superheroic in my absence.
evil_marcus drove me to the airport and borrowed my car for the weekend, during which time he took the concept of "treating it like it's his" to new heights: he fixed the turn signals, cleaned up my engine a little, added some fuel-injection solution to minimize my emissions and installed fishnetfatale's old CD player, which revealed that my speakers are, in fact, decent. It's like I always say: keep your friends close, but keep your tech-savvy friends much, much closer.
Kansas City was its usual warm self.
I almost literally sweated through every piece of clothing I wore over the course of the weekend. My temperature also rose due to my cel phone company refusing to grant me calling privileges -- despite being in one of their calling areas -- until I harangued some poor first-shift supervisor into letting me get my way.
But aside from lunchtime excursions and an emergency nighttime walk -- more on that later -- I was actually able to avoid the Kansas heat/humidity most of the weekend thanks to the hotel a) being a couple of blocks from a supermarket and b) my room having a mini-fridge and a microwave, which allowed me to stock up on TV dinners and milk and avoid spending too much on outside grub.
For my birthday, Anissa and Robert insisted we go out for karaoke, and we settled on The Red Balloon, a bar which at least one person in our group dismissed as "a townie bar." The first glimpse of the place didn't bode well: the bar was infested by regulars, mingled with a few thuggish-looking individuals, and the singing area was a platform no bigger than a hockey penalty box. I was surprised it wasn't enclosed in chicken wire. On our way to find seats, I asked Robert's cousin, "Ever seen The Blues Brothers?"
"We're in it," she answered.
Despite the less-than-glam surroundings and the two breaks for full-on bingo games, we made a good time for ourselves, along with jldwrestlefan and operaghost1969, who broke out his signature version of Faithfully. Meanwhile, after years of talking about it, Anissa and I finally got to do a duet, teaming up for Video Killed The Radio Star. I also discovered that I'm more adept at doing shots than in recent years. I'm not sure that's a good thing.
The wedding was lovely.
NyssaCon, as I took to calling the festivities, was one of the more original weddings I've ever attended: the stag and hen parties were held a week or two beforehand, and the wedding and reception themselves were held a day apart. Anissa explained that was done so they could spend as much time as possible with those assembled.
The first event of the weekend was an Italian lunch Friday afternoon, where I re-acquainted myself with Anissa's friend Skeevy, who I met when she did tech work for the Justice League show three years ago and was one of her bridesmaids. It was humorous disdain at first sight for Skeevy and I, with our first meeting culminating in me play-wrestling her to the ground. Not that I rub that in her face. Often.
Within minutes of saying hi to each other at lunch, Skeevy and myself went back to playing His Girl Friday with one another. Upon discovering the restaurant had left us crayons with which to draw on the sheets covering our table, I drew a stick figure with a four-sided head and named it after her, seeing as how it was a Blockhead. Thank you, try the veal!
When another one of the bridesmaids remarked on our prickly repartee, I said, "I know, right? Abrasive girl, nice guy. Someone should write a play." Don't worry, though, True Believers, she got me back: at lunch, she accused me of drawing a phallic-shaped whale on her side of the table, and when I asked the group about any afternoon plans, she said, "Well, this hotel's got a pool, and you need a bath." Tip your waitress, folks!
***********
The wedding was held that evening, outside by the pool. In another break with tradition, the ceremony was hosted not by a clergyman, but by a friend of Anissa's whose delivery and eloquence reminded me of Henry Lennix, so much so that I was actually a little intimidated at the prospect at having to follow the guy the next evening, when I would host the reception. And you're talking to a guy who's shared the stage with thepeterpixie.
Pannell and she_rock sang In Whatever Time We Have during the brief ceremony, which concluded with a mini-reception, where the newlyweds cut the cake. But, there were no dollar dances or bouquet/garter tossings, which disappointed me a little. I've already caught four in my life, and I was looking forward to continuing my tenure as a matrimonial Mythbuster.
INTERLUDE:
Last night was cold, and it was my fault.
I slipped and fell, into the same place
I was this time last year.
I may as well tell you now, we're not discussing this.
END INTERLUDE
Luckily for me, my duties at the reception were quick and simple: introduce the happy couple for their first dance -- True Geek Love, by Tripod, if you're scoring at home -- then invite their mothers to join them after that, announce the start of open dancing, and introduce the best man when the time came for his toast.
The playlist, which I contributed to, was roughly 70 percent swing-based. After a couple of quick dances, I settled in behind the laptop -- ain't technology great? -- and managed things according to the ebb and flow of the crowd. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the experience, to be honest, especially when Anissa's mother and step-father were left alone on the dance floor, close to the end of the evening. I moved three or four slow songs up on the list, to extend their moment.
I signed off close to midnight and found myself in the midst of a mission of mercy: Skeevy had pulled up lame. So, in a full suit and hat, I journeyed through the humid Kansas air to bring her bandages, icy/hot and an Ace bandage foot wrap. Of course, I still greeted her with, "How's it going, Flash?" when I returned. Why spoil our witty banter? I left her in the capable hands of the after-party and went to bed to catch my Sunday morning flight.
Back to work tomorrow,
in more ways than one.
Only the first part of this matters now, as I feel sleepiness overtaking me. I ended up oversleeping by half an hour this morning and stumbling into our department meeting a couple of minutes later (bless you, 10-minute commute). When the sales reps found out my birthday was last week, they lassoed me into going out for lunch tomorrow (no, really, they had to twist my arm a bit.) And after a few days of going without, I found myself consciously having to get used to driving (let alone with a working turn signal and CD player.)
In a few days, two more friends of mine will marry, I'll be there to support them, and all this wedding fever will subside for the year. I think. The next day, I'll be meeting with my new writing group. Rather than feel any sadness about my continuing Quirkyaloneness, however, I'm somewhat exhaustedly glad good things are still beginning in my own life, as well as theirs.
-30-
Thanks to all for the well-wishes.
As mentioned in these pages before, I took a mulligan for this birthday. Nontheless, a few people sent their shout-outs here and at my MySpace ... uh, space. Each surprise was nice, and when put together, I felt better and better going into the trip, especially after watching Video Killed The Radio Star and Radio Ga-Ga for inspiration.
L&M have been especially superheroic in my absence.
evil_marcus drove me to the airport and borrowed my car for the weekend, during which time he took the concept of "treating it like it's his" to new heights: he fixed the turn signals, cleaned up my engine a little, added some fuel-injection solution to minimize my emissions and installed fishnetfatale's old CD player, which revealed that my speakers are, in fact, decent. It's like I always say: keep your friends close, but keep your tech-savvy friends much, much closer.
Kansas City was its usual warm self.
I almost literally sweated through every piece of clothing I wore over the course of the weekend. My temperature also rose due to my cel phone company refusing to grant me calling privileges -- despite being in one of their calling areas -- until I harangued some poor first-shift supervisor into letting me get my way.
But aside from lunchtime excursions and an emergency nighttime walk -- more on that later -- I was actually able to avoid the Kansas heat/humidity most of the weekend thanks to the hotel a) being a couple of blocks from a supermarket and b) my room having a mini-fridge and a microwave, which allowed me to stock up on TV dinners and milk and avoid spending too much on outside grub.
For my birthday, Anissa and Robert insisted we go out for karaoke, and we settled on The Red Balloon, a bar which at least one person in our group dismissed as "a townie bar." The first glimpse of the place didn't bode well: the bar was infested by regulars, mingled with a few thuggish-looking individuals, and the singing area was a platform no bigger than a hockey penalty box. I was surprised it wasn't enclosed in chicken wire. On our way to find seats, I asked Robert's cousin, "Ever seen The Blues Brothers?"
"We're in it," she answered.
Despite the less-than-glam surroundings and the two breaks for full-on bingo games, we made a good time for ourselves, along with jldwrestlefan and operaghost1969, who broke out his signature version of Faithfully. Meanwhile, after years of talking about it, Anissa and I finally got to do a duet, teaming up for Video Killed The Radio Star. I also discovered that I'm more adept at doing shots than in recent years. I'm not sure that's a good thing.
The wedding was lovely.
NyssaCon, as I took to calling the festivities, was one of the more original weddings I've ever attended: the stag and hen parties were held a week or two beforehand, and the wedding and reception themselves were held a day apart. Anissa explained that was done so they could spend as much time as possible with those assembled.
The first event of the weekend was an Italian lunch Friday afternoon, where I re-acquainted myself with Anissa's friend Skeevy, who I met when she did tech work for the Justice League show three years ago and was one of her bridesmaids. It was humorous disdain at first sight for Skeevy and I, with our first meeting culminating in me play-wrestling her to the ground. Not that I rub that in her face. Often.
Within minutes of saying hi to each other at lunch, Skeevy and myself went back to playing His Girl Friday with one another. Upon discovering the restaurant had left us crayons with which to draw on the sheets covering our table, I drew a stick figure with a four-sided head and named it after her, seeing as how it was a Blockhead. Thank you, try the veal!
When another one of the bridesmaids remarked on our prickly repartee, I said, "I know, right? Abrasive girl, nice guy. Someone should write a play." Don't worry, though, True Believers, she got me back: at lunch, she accused me of drawing a phallic-shaped whale on her side of the table, and when I asked the group about any afternoon plans, she said, "Well, this hotel's got a pool, and you need a bath." Tip your waitress, folks!
***********
The wedding was held that evening, outside by the pool. In another break with tradition, the ceremony was hosted not by a clergyman, but by a friend of Anissa's whose delivery and eloquence reminded me of Henry Lennix, so much so that I was actually a little intimidated at the prospect at having to follow the guy the next evening, when I would host the reception. And you're talking to a guy who's shared the stage with thepeterpixie.
Pannell and she_rock sang In Whatever Time We Have during the brief ceremony, which concluded with a mini-reception, where the newlyweds cut the cake. But, there were no dollar dances or bouquet/garter tossings, which disappointed me a little. I've already caught four in my life, and I was looking forward to continuing my tenure as a matrimonial Mythbuster.
INTERLUDE:
Last night was cold, and it was my fault.
I slipped and fell, into the same place
I was this time last year.
I may as well tell you now, we're not discussing this.
END INTERLUDE
Luckily for me, my duties at the reception were quick and simple: introduce the happy couple for their first dance -- True Geek Love, by Tripod, if you're scoring at home -- then invite their mothers to join them after that, announce the start of open dancing, and introduce the best man when the time came for his toast.
The playlist, which I contributed to, was roughly 70 percent swing-based. After a couple of quick dances, I settled in behind the laptop -- ain't technology great? -- and managed things according to the ebb and flow of the crowd. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the experience, to be honest, especially when Anissa's mother and step-father were left alone on the dance floor, close to the end of the evening. I moved three or four slow songs up on the list, to extend their moment.
I signed off close to midnight and found myself in the midst of a mission of mercy: Skeevy had pulled up lame. So, in a full suit and hat, I journeyed through the humid Kansas air to bring her bandages, icy/hot and an Ace bandage foot wrap. Of course, I still greeted her with, "How's it going, Flash?" when I returned. Why spoil our witty banter? I left her in the capable hands of the after-party and went to bed to catch my Sunday morning flight.
Back to work tomorrow,
in more ways than one.
Only the first part of this matters now, as I feel sleepiness overtaking me. I ended up oversleeping by half an hour this morning and stumbling into our department meeting a couple of minutes later (bless you, 10-minute commute). When the sales reps found out my birthday was last week, they lassoed me into going out for lunch tomorrow (no, really, they had to twist my arm a bit.) And after a few days of going without, I found myself consciously having to get used to driving (let alone with a working turn signal and CD player.)
In a few days, two more friends of mine will marry, I'll be there to support them, and all this wedding fever will subside for the year. I think. The next day, I'll be meeting with my new writing group. Rather than feel any sadness about my continuing Quirkyaloneness, however, I'm somewhat exhaustedly glad good things are still beginning in my own life, as well as theirs.
-30-